


doesn't matter if it hurts

by Yellow



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, Multi, god dream bs, hadrian learning some new tricks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 22:08:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13222209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yellow/pseuds/Yellow
Summary: ephrim meets samot. hadrian gets to be on the other side of things, for once.





	doesn't matter if it hurts

**Author's Note:**

> happy new year
> 
> title from bts' "blood, sweat and tears" because im living

Ephrim wakes to hands in his hair. He leans back into them, eyes closed, and sighs. 

“Good morning, prince,” a light, teasing voice says, and Ephrim opens his eyes to see he’s resting in a gorgeous blond man’s lap. His hair hangs down in a curtain around them. He smiles and Ephrim smiles back, small, unthinking.

And then there is a gasp, and the man looks up, smiles wider.

“Oh, Hadrian!” he says, delighted, and Ephrim turns to look. The man catches his chin and holds it still. 

“Not yet,” he says to Ephrim, still smiling, and Hadrian gasps, “Samot.”

Samot, Ephrim thinks. There are references, in the old texts, to Samothes’s lover, to Samothes’s betrayer, to a lone, white wolf. He smiles at Ephrim again, so Ephrim can see his teeth, as if he’s guessed what Ephrim knows. Ephrim blinks at him, looks at the points of his teeth. He’s so relaxed. Samot’s hands in his hair feel good. And now Samot is looking over him at Hadrian, saying something low, and then he leans into view for the first time.

Hadrian is already flushed, leaning forward on all fours to come closer to Samot. Ephrim watches the way he licks his lips, the way they part when he breathes, 

And then Samot pulls Ephrim up, into his lap, so Ephrim’s head leans back against Samot’s shoulder. He still feels half-asleep. Warm. 

Samot smiles against the back of his neck.

“Go on,” he says, and Hadrian kisses Ephrim, sudden, deep, lips pressing hard into his. Ephrim gasps and Hadrian licks at his lips, crawls closer to press into him. And then it stops, and Ephrim opens his eyes, a second late.

Samot’s hand is in Hadrian’s hair, and he’s ripped him backwards.

“This isn’t about you, Hadrian,” Samot says, sweet. Hadrian gasps, ragged.

“Here,” he says, taking Ephrim’s wrists and offering them to Hadrian. He takes them, both in one hand, and Ephrim sighs, looks at his lips.

Hadrian stares at him, and Ephrim breathes, shallow, looks up at him through his lashes. And then Hadrian tackles him to the floor, wrists pinned. He’s still half in Samot’s lap. He hears Samot laugh, breathy, delighted, and then Hadrian is kissing him, rough. Hadrian bites his lip and Ephrim throws his head back, sighs.

“He wants you, Hadrian, look at him,” Samot says, and Ephrim gasps, stretches to let Hadrian have better access to his neck. Hadrian shudders and leans down to kiss his neck; Ephrim sighs. 

“You can let his hands go,” Samot says, and he moves Ephrim’s legs off his lap. “He won’t move.” And Ephrim won’t. He feels like he’s made of lead, he feels like he’s underwater, he feels hot and he doesn’t want to move, at all, not while Hadrian is kissing him like this. 

Ephrim’s eyes flutter open; Samot’s kissing Hadrian’s neck, now. Hadrian’s pupils are huge and he’s breathing hard. He nips Ephrim’s chin.

“Choke him,” Samot says, and bites Hadrian’s earlobe. Hadrian puts a hand on Ephrim’s throat and presses down, just enough to hurt, just enough that things get hazier. And then Samot says, “Enough,” pleased, and Ephrim gasps for breath, his body moving where his mind is a step behind.

He’s so hard. It’s all he can think about.

“Please,” he says, rougher than he expects. He swallows. He’s going to have a bruise.

“Hadrian,” Samot says, hanging off his back.

And then HAdrian is peeling off his clothes, moving Ephrim where Ephrim hangs limply. Samot produces oils and he presses a finger into Ephrim, easy. Ephrim shudders and thrusts up. He moves to grip at Hadrian’s arm.

“Please,” he says, and Samot smiles, cold.

“Weren’t you supposed to stay still?” he says, and pulls Hadrian away.

“No, please,” Ephrim says, and puts his arms back. He’s breathing, heavy. Hadrian’s eyes weigh on him.

“Ask him, Hadrian. Will he be good?”

“Will you be good?” Hadrian repeats. He swallows.

“Yes, please, I’ll be good, let me be good,” Ephrim says, close to sobs. “Please, please.”

Samot nods and Hadrian fills him with two fingers. Ephrim whines, high, and does not move.

Hadrian adds a third and then Ephrim is sweating, tossing his head.

Samot strokes his hair.

“He’s ready, Hadrian,” Samot says, lazy, and Hadrian lines up, enters Ephrim.

It feels so good. It feels so good and he’s already so close. He feels like he’s burning up and Hadrian’s hands on his hips are the only real things. Samot lifts him up and moves his legs to rest on Hadrian’s shoulders, almost bending him in half-and then Hadrian is so deep, and they both groan.

Hadrian moves him, thrusts into him where he’s half-laying against Samot. His dick almost hurts it’s so hard, and Samot strokes his thighs, his stomach, everything but. 

“Samot,” Hadrian gasps, “Samot-”

Samot pulls Hadrian to him and Ephrim is bent even further as they kiss over his head, dirty, and then Hadrian comes with a low groan. 

Ephrim is so close. He’s so close.

“Please,” he says, and Samot finally grins at him, strokes his dick, rough. Ephrim comes with a whine, all over his own chest and Samot’s hand. 

“Hadrian,” Samot says, and Hadrian crawls forward and licks Samot’s hand clean, then Ephrim’s chest. Ephrim breathes, deep. 

Samot strokes his hair.

“You did so well,” he says. “You were so good.” 

Ephrim closes his eyes, tight. 

Samot strokes Hadrian’s hair and pulls him against him also, so they are both half-sprawled on Samot.

He smiles against Ephrim’s hair. 

“You did so well, prince,” he says, and Ephrim drifts. Samot presses a kiss into his hair. Hadrian takes his hand.

“You did so well,” he says again, and then Ephrim wakes up, hard, alone, cold.

He’s crying.

He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, and gets up to start his day.

 

The sun is gone, but the two moons hang in the sky above him. He watches them. He thinks about orbits.

He goes to take the watch.

**Author's Note:**

> find me @capricioustube


End file.
